Before You Ask
by Bestbuds55
Summary: Sherlock finds that while life is boring; the one thing that isn't is John. The problem is that he isn't good with relationships or talking really, and it's driving him crazy.
1. Chapter 1

Author's note- Yeah, I told you I would have another fan fiction up soon! This show is amazing and it has been running my life for the last few weeks. Hope you enjoy the first chapter and I would really love all of you if I got you to review!

Warning- I don't own Sherlock, or any of the characters. That makes my life sad

John watched from just a few feet away as Sherlock finally explained his impossible deductions to the police. The case had been hard in his opinion and in Sherlock's opinion a seven. (Refer to season two, episode one)It had been interesting enough to make Sherlock leave the house, but not enough to keep him busy for more than 6 hours. It had been a triple suicide that Sherlock had quickly figured out had been two murders and only one suicide. The murderer had killed both his wife and the maid, who he had been sleeping with; before ending his own life.

He never understood how Sherlock could possibly called that a simple case. On the other hand, Sherlock was definitely a genius and anything that didn't take him all night to figure out, had to be considered boring. That was just the way that the mind worked, he needed a constant distraction to take him away from how alone he felt in this world. John shook his head before interrupting the one sided conversation that Sherlock was engaged in with Lestrade. "Sherlock, just head back to the flat by yourself after this; I'm going to take a walk and get some fresh air."

It wasn't exactly as though he lied, it's just that he didn't give all of the details; Sherlock did that all of the time! He really did intend to go for a walk, all the way to a pub that was. This was one of those times where Sherlock had been driving him up the wall for a week, but this short case wasn't even going to change his mood in the slightest. John sighed once again when he realized that Sherlock hadn't even acknowledged him speaking. Damn That Man!

John started off on his walk with a slow pace; he wanted to walk out in front of a car. Thinking was dangerous business for someone like him after all, unless you had a mind like Sherlock's. In that case you probably wouldn't need to run away from a situation because you needed to think. It wouldn't be necessary; you would already have the answer.

He let his mind wonder to Sherlock and how much he mattered in John's life. He was there every day, talking to John (or at John) and even ignoring how bad his mood was when old injuries decided to hurt again. He was tall and could tower over John if he wanted to. The man played the violin with every bit of his heart and every single tune made John's heart soar. It was magic to his ears, even at three a.m. in the morning when he was trying to get some sleep.

Especially then; because when he woke to the sound of that violin, he felt like he was being serenaded by Sherlock. He know that, that feeling was wrong and Sherlock was either thinking to hard or trying to distract himself from thinking too hard, yet that nagging feeling wouldn't go away. He wanted Sherlock to love him, to be treating him with greater care then he already did, to sleep next to the man and see his face as he woke up.

John swallowed hard; he was in much deeper than he had originally thought he was. Not to mention that the cold night air was freezing his body; Sherlock had rushed them out the door before he had had a chance to grab his coat. Lucky his wallet had already been in his back pocket though, so now as he reached the front of a small pub, he could drink himself into a stupor while thinking about Sherlock and his damn cluelessness.

It was nearly one a.m. so the pub was mostly empty; most people had already accomplished their mission of making body contact with another person by this time of the night. He ordered a beer while continuing to think about his tall flatmate. That man was gorgeous and John couldn't help back think back to the times he had seen him naked. Which, John had to keep telling himself had been unavoidable seeing as they lived together and Sherlock always slept naked.

Always slept naked but hardly ever slept in his bed, often sprawled out on the couch, the table and once even the counter tops. Not to mention that he often walked around in nothing but a sheet when he didn't have case. Modesty was definitely not in Sherlock's vocabulary. Still, John could admit that he was that big, he wouldn't want to hide it either.

That last thought made John blush. It was true but e couldn't help but feel ashamed for thinking such a dirty thought in the middle of a pub. Of course that wasn't as bad as he felt after he had one of those damn dreams about Sherlock. He blamed Sherlock for those dreams as well; they had started after the first time Sherlock had just walked out of the shower completely naked, and dripping wet.

'Yes, this whole messed up situation is all Sherlock's fault.' John thought with much contempt. He took a small sip of his beer, which had been sitting in front of him for nearly ten minutes. So much for getting drunk, he couldn't even remember to drink. It was definitely Sherlock's fault that he was this messed up.

He looked over to his right just as a woman sat next to him. She was really pretty, jet red hair and a small frame. In fact she was quite short, only 5'3 (give or take an inch), she was the type of girl that John loved to date. Though, for one reason or another he was really hesitant when she asked if he was alone.

It was confusing that answer should have been an automatically no, but his thoughts stayed on Sherlock. He wished they were together, but they weren't so for what reason did he have not to date someone? He didn't have a reason, and here was a girl who was asking _**him. **_It was only polite to say no, he wasn't seeing anyone and yes; he would love to go out and have a bite to eat tomorrow.

He bought her a drink and when he said to get whatever she wanted, she ordered a beer. It made him smile; this was a woman with good taste. After a few minutes of chatter he had found out her name was Keysha, she was a veterinarian and he still couldn't manage to keep his mind off of Sherlock.

He knew he was acting stupid; there was a pretty girl giving him attention and he was thinking about his flatmate. Still, this could be the exact distraction that he needed to take his mind off of the consulting detective.

Of course, this girl didn't really deserve to be treated as a substitute. He shook that thought from his mind, he should just be happy to be dating someone again. These thoughts had probably just surfaced because he had been lonely lately.

It was then that the bartender told them that it was time to close up. John quickly offered to walk her home but she declined explaining that she had derived here. So he had kissed her outside the pub and they exchanged both numbers and agreeing to next up at lunch tomorrow.

That night went perfect except for two things; because of Sherlock he felt like he shouldn't be dating her and now he had to go back to the flat; Sherlock was a the flat, he was always at the flat. Oh well, at least he had a date to look forward to tomorrow.

And that's the first chapter everyone! I hope you liked it and review please; I live on them like normal please live on food.


	2. Chapter 2

Author's note – Yeah we are at the second chapter already, that's pretty damn exciting. It's up really fast in my mind, considering I wrote this instead of my English essay... Yeah that's the way life goes sometimes. Review please.

Warning- I don't own Sherlock or any of the characters; every time I say that it hurts just a little bit more...

It had been a week since his toast case. An entire week of boring, and before that had been a small case which hadn't even been worth the time of leaving the apartment. So, in reality it had been a really long and extra boring month. He was beginning to think that nothing interesting happened in London anymore. That, of course was overdramatic but Sherlock still felt it was true.

He had begun to sleep for eight hours a day and eat two meals a day; he hadn`t had to do any serious thinking in quite awhile now. Everything was boring, even his experiments were boring him now! Shooting things didn`t make him any better either, because he always got an ear full from either Mrs. Hudson or John afterwards.

John, now he at least was as interesting as always, not that he was really interesting at all but at least he never failed to latter or support Sherlock. Plus, unlike his skull, John would talk back and ask questions, a lot of questions. It would always amuse him to learn that John could usually keep up with all the puzzles and clues, but had to be explained the smaller things like that on their last case.

At the least case he had gotten that the man killed the two women, but he needed an explanation of why he left them both a note. Sherlock had thought that was absolutely ridiculous; it was for the same reason he had killed them. He couldn't choose between them and then when they were dead, he couldn't stand being alone.

It was an unusually boring murder and even had a terribly boring reason behind it. Yet John had still managed to looks shocked as he usually did, he still complimented him. Sherlock had begun to wonder if he was doing cases now days because it kept him from being bored, or because John always followed him around and called him brilliant.

John was definitely the strangest creature that Sherlock had ever had the pleasure of meeting. Sometimes he even wished that had met sooner in life, if he had had a partner like John, drugs have never even been an option. 'Well, cigarettes would have probably still have happened.' Sherlock noted. 'I wouldn't have done anything else though; not if John would stay up and worry for me.' That was all the reason he needed.

Over the months that they had been living together, Sherlock had realized many things about John. John always waited up for him when he went out at night. If he couldn't manage to stay awake, then Sherlock would find him asleep on the couch; usually in the spot Sherlock like to sleep. John was the most loyal person he had ever met and even seemed to resemble a puppy at some points.

That is why he was so confused when John told him he needed to get some fresh air at the crime scene last week. John had never left without him at a crime scene before; sure Sherlock had abandoned _him_ a few times but never the other way around. Besides, Sherlock had stopped leaving him behind when he had come home a few times and saw the look on John's face.

It had been the same look that you would see on a puppy's face after it was kicked. There was up way a person could look at that face and note feel guilty, even Sherlock had felt bad.

That was the exact moment that Sherlock got an idea. He stood up, leaving the couch and his sheet behind with it. He went into his room to get dressed, for this was an experiment to be dressed for. If John was (at the moment) his source of entertainment; then Sherlock would simply maximize this. The plan was perfect, find out just how much John's behaviours were similar to that of a puppy.

Sherlock jumped up at the sound of John arriving home with the groceries, it had been two hours since he had decided to go through with the experiment and he couldn't help that feel excited. 'Here we go.' He thought with a smile on his face as he heard the door click open. When John got through the door, Sherlock took the bags from him and was quickly putting them away for him.

Sherlock could feel John's eyes on him, he was completely shocked. In fact, by the way he hadn't moved, Sherlock almost wanted to say John had gone into shock. After the food was put away, Sherlock walked back over and grabbed John's hand, pulling him along towards the couch. "Sit." Sherlock ordered and was very happy to see that John sat down without any hesitation.

Of course, Sherlock immediately frowned when he noticed John's tensed shoulder. That couldn't be good for it, especially when it still hurt on occasion. Sherlock walked around until he was directly behind where John was sitting on the couch. He placed his hands on John's upper back, and found himself displayed when John twitched away slightly. "You are to tense for your own good." He said, surprised with himself. Why did he even care?

Sherlock slowly put pressure on the tense muscles, massaging all of the sore places right out of John's shoulders. It was hard to believe that a person could be that stiff, then again John was a doctor and had been a solder. He rubbed small circles around John's neck, feeling him relax under his finger tips.

John groaned when Sherlock graced over the gunshot wound and Sherlock quickly decided that he really enjoyed that sound. He leaned forward into John's already abused space and whispered, "If we relocate to your room, I'll give you a full back massage. One that you'll never be able to forget."

Sherlock was already half was there when John started to follow him, whimpering all the way to his bedroom. It pleased him to see that John was indeed like a pet who wanted his master's attention. On the other hand, it angered him on how bad a shape John's muscles had been in. If he had only realized sooner then he probably could have done something.

Soon enough John was lying face down on his bed, with his shirt off and Sherlock hovering over him. Sherlock put his long fingers to work, put pressure and rubbing John's lower back. He smiled at the little gasps and deep breaths of air John had to take every thirty seconds, as he had to tell himself that he needed to breathe.

Another thing about this was that John's skin felt really good under his fingers. The way he relaxes completely tells Sherlock that John trusts him completely. It's no surprise that in under an hour, John is practically nothing but putty under Sherlock's skilled hands.

John moans again and Sherlock bites his lip because those sounds are starting to go from cute to exciting in his mind. It's time for the massage to be over; there isn't a tense bone in John's body at this point. Yet, Sherlock's hands are still roaming over John's back, not quite ready to leave it behind yet.

It doesn't last much longer though, because soon after that John falls asleep, lulled by Sherlock's touch and being stress free. Once Sherlock realized this, he jumped away and left John's room. Not before pulling up a blanket over John and turning off the light for him though. It was bound to be a cold night and John didn't need to catch a cold on top of his work load.

After Sherlock had left John, he went directly to his bedroom. For some reason or another, those sounds that John had been making had gone right down to his male anatomy. It was shocking, this had never occurred to him before except from a dream he had endured through. It was strange, he had considered himself asexual, but John had actually been able to turn him on.

He lay down on his bed and did something he never pictured himself doing; grabbed his cock and felt it over. He shed his pants and underwear quickly almost as though he were excited to try something new. He had masturbated before, but never with another person present in his mind.

Now images of John were dancing through his mind, seducing him into pulling harder and pleasuring himself more. It was over in a flash, as expect from someone who hadn't had realised in years. After it was done and Sherlock's breath had returned to normal; he calmly fell asleep.

Yay, another chapter is up for you all to read! Review please, I want to know what you think!


	3. Chapter 3

Author's note- Hey everyone, I'm back with yet another wonderful chapter, hope everyone is loving it! While typing this I'm re-watching the first season of Sherlock for the billionth time, so it's still fresh in my mind. Review and I'll love you? Oh, I will be putting the texts in between these, ...

Warning- I don't own Sherlock or any of the characters;

When John woke up, he quickly realized two things; one, he was in bed tucked in and two, he for some reason or another had no shirt on. It was confusing for a few short moments but then the memory from last night came back full speed ahead. If he wasn't already lying down, he had no doubt that he would have fallen over.

Sherlock Holmes, the great consulting detective had given him the best massage that he had ever had in his life! The scenario ran through his mind again; Sherlock taking and putting away the groceries while he just stood and watched. Then he had been lad over to the couch and (after a few minutes of flinching away from Sherlock's rough hands) received a shoulder rub. Then they had gone to his bedroom and he had received possibly the best massage recorded in history. It's not a big surprise that Sherlock could do absolutely anything; he was a genius after all.

Sherlock had rubbed the stress right out of him an eventually he fell asleep under his strong hands. He wondered what had been going through Sherlock's mind at that moment. Why would he feel the need to help John like that? The answer in his mind was quite clear. 'He was tired of me complaining about my back, so he decided to do something about it.'

All of the sudden, John's phone beeped signaling that he had received a text. Which was weird; considering it were only seven in the morning. He picked it up off of the table beside his bed and stared at it, feeling a tiny bit confused and very worried. I know that you're up, report to the kitchen. I made breakfast.

John suppressed a shutter, he was pretty sure that Sherlock was incapable of cooking. Then again, he hadn't exactly seen him try. Sherlock barely at all, and usually only when John ended up force feeding him; there had been no need to cook. If he could give an excellent massage, then why couldn't he cook as well? John suddenly felt sad when he realized that there was a lot about Sherlock that he didn't know.

He forced himself to climb out of bed, stretching his still relaxed muscles while walking to the kitchen. It was too early in the morning to worry about things like putting a shirt on. He was still wearing yesterday's jeans and was planning on having a shower after finding out what the hell Sherlock had really wanted. Plus the promise of breakfast made him feel really hungry, and he couldn't even remember if he ate supper yesterday.

Probably not, sometimes his life with Sherlock kept him away from important little things, like eating. He had lost a distasteful amount of weight since he started to live with Sherlock. The worst part was that he had exactly weighed that much before, in fact with the way it was right now; he had to keep track of what he was eating so he didn't end up in the hospital. He didn't want that to happen, it would be way to embarrassing for him, being a doctor who couldn't even take care of his own health.

He had to stop at the doorway into the kitchen and lean against it when arriving; Sherlock was sitting at the table, (which had two plates of breakfast on it) and he was wearing boxers. _Only Boxers_, and John couldn't help but take in Sherlock's figure. Eventually his eyes made their way down to see how well Sherlock fit into a pair of boxers. This was a rare site after all; Sherlock was always either in a sheet, fully dressed or (when asleep) completely naked.

Yes, this sight alone would have definitely been enough to get him out of a bed. Straight to the shower so he could either drown himself in freezing water or have a private, perverse fantasy. John cleared his throat before moving forward, completely concentrated on the food on the table. After all, the last thing he needed to do was get a hard on in front of his flatmate. 'That would be just too damn embarrassing to have to explain.' John concluded while taking his seat and ignoring Sherlock.

John, of course, quickly found it was a very, very hard feat to accomplish. Especially when said man was doing nothing but stare at him from across the table. Damn, maybe getting out of bed was a mistake after all. He began to eat the hot plate of breakfast in front of him, trying to figure out where he could look without seeing Sherlock or looking like he was trying to avoid looking at Sherlock.

It occurred to him that if Sherlock already realized he was acting strange, the he was going to just continue to humor him because he probably realized that that was what the doctor wanted. 'Damn, everything's to confusing for this early morning hour.' That thought ran through his mind every time he tried to figure out anything from this situation.

It was at that moment that Sherlock decided to speak up; saving John from his own thoughts. "Is the food to your liking? I was going to make tea but decided after filing through past memories that you are rather partial to making it yourself. It gives you time to think about whatever you need to and clears everything else from your head." Sherlock said in his low voice. As if that wasn't enough to make John's heart jump out of his chest, Sherlock spoke again. "After last night when I noticed just how tense your muscles were I realized that I have not been taking care of you properly. Forgive my ignorance; I shall try harder from now on." Yes, now John's heart was pounding away at the speed of light.

Sherlock Holmes, **the great Sherlock Holmes** had not only just asked for his forgiveness but for some reason of another just declared he would "take better care of him." John makes the mistake of looking at Sherlock, and their eye's meet, locked in a heated stare. It was at this point that John started to wish that he would have put on a shirt. The small amount of food left on his plate was completely abandoned as he watched Sherlock stand, and circle around the table.

His heart beat loudly as he was grabbed by the wrist and pulled from his chair, and into the living room. Sherlock let go of him when they stood in front of the couch and he watched as Sherlock sat down and stretched his legs out over the other cushion. Sherlock stared at him for a few moments as if trying to tell him something before giving up and leaning over, grabbing John by snaking an arm around his waist.

John thought he was going to have a heart attack as Sherlock forcefully pulled him down onto the couch; straight onto Sherlock's _**lap**_. He wasn't sure he would even remember how to breathe as Sherlock manhandled him until he was lying back against him. Then, Sherlock pulled the TV remote out of nowhere and turned it over. The show was nothing in particular and it wasn't exactly as though John was paying it any attention.

He couldn't think of anything but Sherlock, which he had quickly concluded that was perfectly reasonable. He was just made to sit in the man's lap when neither of them had shirts on and Sherlock was only wearing boxers. A blush formed on John's face, there was absolutely no avoiding it; he was so confused about all of this. As time went by, John felt Sherlock's eyes constantly return to him, as if trying to read his thoughts.

It was noon before Sherlock shifted; John wondered how he had never noticed how small he was compared to Sherlock. Having all his weight in Sherlock's lap for hours and Sherlock had not even complained once about it, made John think about just how strong Sherlock was. Even more than that, John usually got really tense from having contact with other people; his years in the military had made him that way. Yet, here he was in Sherlock's lap and he was completely and utterly relaxed.

His phone beeped around 2 p.m. and he looked back at Sherlock, for the first time since he had been forced to sit down. He couldn't place what the look in his eyes were and it sort of worried him. "I have to get my phone, it might be important." John found himself whispering. He felt the arm that was around his waist move. It startled John a tiny bit; he hadn't even realized it had been there.

As he stood up from Sherlock's lap and padded over to the kitchen table he thought about how they had practically been cuddling on the couch for hours. He picked his phone up off of the table; where he had left it that morning. Where they had had breakfast together before Sherlock decided they should snuggle.

It was a text from Keysha, the girl who he had met about a week ago at a bar; the one who he was currently dating. He felt really sorry for her, she had no idea she was being lead on by some guy who only seemed to have eye's for his best friend. We should meet up tomorrow night for a drink. She even wanted to see him, he felt twice as bad now.

Sure, how's the Raven at 10 p.m. tomorrow? he answered. He closed his phone before glancing over at Sherlock, who was still in the other room. John sighed, he knew he was going to have to break up with her on their date.

And that's the third chapter everyone! Hope you review for me, I love reading all of your comments...


	4. Chapter 4

Author's note- Well, yet another chapter is finally up, took me long enough didn't it? I guess that's what happens when March break finishes, teachers decide to assign the work for both this week and then last which you weren't in school. Pull three all nighters this week, and it's Sunday again already. There's school tomorrow... Anyway, review please!

Disclaimer- I don't own anything but the story it's because I was the one who wrote it!

Sherlock has watched John walk into the kitchen to retrieve his phone. He hadn't wanted John to move for his lap, it had felt so nice for him to be there. Sherlock thought about the plan he had come up with last night; to keep himself from dying of boredom. He would make John a nice breakfast, (check) say something nice to him, (check) and then spend a few hours watching TV with him. (Check)

Well, might have gone overboard with the last one, but when they had got to the couch and John didn't sit down, he felt as though he had to do something. He had never noticed how light John was before he had been forced to spend the morning on Sherlock's lap. He had looked so small in his lap, so confused and so inviting. It was beautiful and had been really nice to feel John pressed back against him. Like they were made to be together like that; forever.

Sherlock bit his lip after that last thought; what the hell was that? When John had been in his lap, he had unconscious wrapped an arm around his waist, keeping him firm in his place. Every few seconds he had glanced at John's bare neck; trying to reason with himself why he shouldn't lick it. Why he should bite down, and mark John with a red smudge that meant; _I belong to Sherlock Holmes and no one else can touch me._

Sherlock began to wonder what John would have done if he had suddenly leaned forward and sucked on John's neck, maybe even tweaking his nipples. A part of him had wanted to try, but the rest of him didn't want to ruin the moment by getting hit. Still, he wondered if John would have moaned for him. Knocking himself out of his own thoughts, he heard John coming back towards the room. His heart beat fast, would be sit back down in Sherlock's lap and continue on as though he didn't just get up to check on his phone?

Sherlock's mind flashed back to John's voice which had been no more than a whisper when he had spoken, "I have to get my phone, it might be important." He had to make an excuse before getting up, he hadn't wanted to get up. That made a smile appear on Sherlock's face. He looked over at the door way to see John leaning against it. He had never bothered to take in how shorter John was; he quickly decided he really liked it that way.

On the other hand, it really bothered him to feel just how light John was. John always tried to eat three square meals a day and didn't look unnaturally skinny. Still, he was so much lighter then Sherlock was he couldn't be more than 120 pounds. That was really light for a guy, for anyone if he thought about it. Sherlock made note to keep track of John's eating habits. "Was it important?" He asked when he realized John still hadn't moved from his spot.

For some reason or another John looked shocked at what he had said. "N-no, it's nothing important." John stuttered out before looking away from Sherlock's gaze. Sherlock fought the urge to smile when he noticed the small blush which was displayed on the shorter man's face. He looked cute like that.

Sherlock stood up, leaving the couch behind and sauntered over to where John was standing. He was definitely going to steal his phone and find out both who had texted him and why, but that was going to wait until later. He ran his hand through John's hair, watching him tense up and then relaxes. It made him angry; why was John so tense when it came to contact with others?

His mind reeled when it suddenly occurred to him that something had to have happened to John that he wasn't telling him. While being shot was painful, it wouldn't lave physiological scars this deep. 'New mission for today,' He noted to himself mentally. 'Get John to tell you what happened to him that was so serious that he is unable to make contact with another without forcing himself to relax.'

After a few more moments of running his hand through John's hair, said person finally spoke up. "I'm going to go and take a quick shower." It shocked Sherlock a little; John had never bothered to tell Sherlock something like that before. Why had he now? Sherlock already knew the answer; they had connected on a deeper level and now sharing personal information was necessary. He knew reading those psychology looks would help him with something, someday. Granted; it had taken ten years, but that as besides the point. Sherlock withdrew his hand from John's hair; already missing it's feeling on his fingertips.

It was unbelievably soft to the touch and from the three seconds his hand had been there, he already didn't want to let go. He watched John retreat toward, his room; god Sherlock just wanted nothing more than to follow him. Something had defiantly gone wrong with this experiment; it had just made him want to desperately molest John. Which was weird, because last week he had been pretty sure he was asexual.

The shower turned on a few seconds later and he automatically went back out into the kitchen. He cursed to himself when he realized John had taken his phone with him. He had really wanted to see what that message had been. Grumbling slightly, he went over to his own room and shut the door. He would shower also, and then they would go out for a bite to eat.

After all, with John being that light it probably wasn't a good idea for him to skip meals. His shower lasts no more than three minutes and John's is still running when he gets out and quickly gets dressed in clean clothes. Sherlock scowled at himself when he caught himself primping in the mirror; it wasn't exactly like he was asking him out on a date. No, he just wanted to make sure John ate and at breakfast, he had realized that there was practically no food in their flat. The little that there was couldn't make for a proper meal, milk, tea, and a single can of soup. John needed better things to eat then those.

After diner, (or was it lunch? What meal does one eat at 2 p.m?) they could go to the store and pick up some food. That Sarah person from John's work made John take a couple of weeks off in fear that he was being over worked and John was no doubt worrying about money again. John was obviously overworked, and way too thin to be working at all in Sherlock's opinion, if he got seriously ill at that weight, he could not have the strength to recover. Sherlock quickly decided that there was no way he was going to let that happen. Also, Sherlock had told him time and time again that he didn't have to worry about money. That John could rely on him for money and never work again if he wanted to; but every time John rejected him.

If John quit his job he could make all of their meals every day, do all his case along with him and shop regularly every week. It would be like he was Sherlock's house wife and Sherlock would absolutely love it. John would look amazing in a frilly apron, ready to be taken by him at anytime. 'No, bad thought. _Delete._ He wouldn't be like that for me.' He thought feeling a tiny bit depressed.

He left his room and took a seat on the couch, while he waited for John. Pictures of John making dinner for him flashed through his head again; usually they either didn't have the time of the energy. Another picture flashed by, this time of Sherlock waking up with John wrapped up in his arms. He wasn't sure what to make of that one, it was a wonderfully confusing thought.

His eyes glanced towards the clock again; John always decided to take a long shower at the worst moment possible. He had been waiting for 20 minutes now and was getting very impatient. He was about ready to tear the door down when the shower finally shut off. It was music to his ears, now John would come out and they could go out for a date. Err, meal, he meant a meal.

John's bedroom door finally opened, revealing him with still somewhat damp hair. It was beautiful. Sherlock jumped to his feet and all but ran over to John. He grabbed onto his wrist almost positively and exclaimed excitedly. "Let's go out for dinner." Only taking a few short seconds before pulling him towards the door. 'Give him no time to say no.' A voice in his head echoed. They were out of the door before John even had a chance to give his answer. There was no way that he was going to mess this up.

There we go, another chapter finished. Please review please, I love reading comments.


	5. Chapter 5

Author's note- yeah, I'm here again. What life would I have if not for writing? I wouldn't have one that's the answer, not at all. Anyway, I found this chapter really hard to write so I hope you enjoy it; review for me my pretty's?

Warning- Don't own anything.

They arrived at a nice Italian restaurant, a place where John had never been before. They are seated at a table next to a window; there is a candle lit in the middle of the table. When John looks around, he sees that there aren't many people there, (it was early to have dinner after all.) the few that were there were definitely couples out on a romantic date.

Time seems to absolutely freeze as he thinks back to what happened before. "I'm going to take a shower." He had said before retreating to his room and quickly jumped into the shower. Hot water had felt great against his skin; that morning had been so confusing and he really needed to clear his head. He had tomorrow's date to think about and going back to work in eleven days.

He had taken a long shower, not wanting to go back out to face Sherlock again. He was now having slight trouble looking at him without blushing. A thought danced through his mind that he was being absurd. He was acting like a teenage girl; in front of her first boyfriend. He had left the shower, not wanting to explore that thought any longer. That of course, hadn't worked out so well for him either, because as soon as he opened his door Sherlock all but tackled him.

All he had gotten out of Sherlock was a quick, "Let's go out for dinner." Before he was forcefully dragged out of their flat and into a cab; which had been all but waiting for them to come out. In the cab, Sherlock had pressed one of his legs against his; that made had blush and when he was about to say something about it, Sherlock hooked an arm over his shoulders. That was the kind of move one would use on a girl; it made John's heart leap in ways he didn't really want to think possible.

The ride had been a really long one and Sherlock had stared at him the entire time. He had looked like he wanted to say something; but couldn't find the words to say. Also, the cab driver gave them an odd look every few moments. John suspected it bothered him that they looked like a gay couple. Weird, most people didn't care in today's society. He reasoned that's why Sherlock had moved into this loving position; never miss a chance to piss someone unimportant off.

When the cab stopped, Sherlock payed the man and left the cab, circling it before John hardly had time to move. Then his door was being opened for him and Sherlock grabbed onto his hand and pulled him from the cab. It sort of felt like he was being loved. It sort of felt very nice, amazingly nice.

John was brought back to his present situation when the waitress handed him a menu and introduced herself. He smiled as she left, thinking about how pretty a name like Claire was; when he looked over and saw the irritated look on Sherlock's face. He was grumbling something under his breath that John couldn't quite make out and John decided to make a conversation to avoid seeing Sherlock go off about something.

"Well this is a nice place, maybe we should come here more often." He says sweetly trying to cheer Sherlock up, even though he didn't have a clue with what was wrong. Not to his surprise; Sherlock doesn't answer. He does however flash him a smile. A very happy smile that screamed, _I'm so very pleased to hear that you like it. I tried very hard to find a place that would make this outcome possible._

To avoid any more weirdness, John stares down at the menu; trying to look like he was trying to decide what to order. He sighs after a few minutes and sets it down; he really doesn't know what he wants to eat. He doesn't eat Italian food often and never here before, he wished he had asked Claire what was good. When the waitress came back though, she grinned at him and asked what he would like to have. Sherlock answered in a voice that was once again annoyed; "We will be sharing the spaghetti. Also, a bottle of red wine while we wait." He wasn`t polite at all.

The waitress just took down the order and winked at John as she left. John blushed bright red and Sherlock growled around his breath. John looked over and gave his full attention to Sherlock; he was worried about him. Sherlock didn't really get mad all that often and nothing good ever came out of it when he did. In fact, people usually got hurt when Sherlock got mad.

John reached over and placed his hand over top of Sherlock's before whispering; "What is the matter? You don't have to get mad about something unimportant." To his surprise, the signs of anger actually left Sherlock's face. He was just happily staring at John's hand for a moment and then suddenly moved so their fingers were entertwined. It was a nice feeling.

It occurred to him at that moment that Sherlock really was counting this as a date and had gotten angry because the waitress had been hitting on him. That was quite flattering really, but he was still technically dating Keysha. Even if he was dating her as a distraction. He was loyal and didn't like to cheat. In fact, John couldn't even remember a time when he had cheated on someone, because it really was just a horrible thing to do. Plain wrong too, broke someone's heart and their trust in you for the rest of your life. It wasn't worth it at all.

Before he has any more time to think about it, their bottle of wine arrives and he watches Sherlock take it from the waitress and pour them each a glass. He finds himself smiling; because that's just so like Sherlock. When Sherlock hands him a glass, he takes it with glee; a small amount of alcohol might help this situation. They drink in bittersweet silence and he can feel Sherlock eyeing him up the entire time.

They finish the bottle in around ten minutes and John drank all but the tiny glass that Sherlock had poured for himself. It was funny really, because while Sherlock had loved to do drugs once upon a time, he had never liked alcohol. Weird, but John sort of admired him for it, mostly due to his sister inability to stop drinking. That ran in his family too, but John was sure that Sherlock would stop him if he ever drank himself into a coma.

John can tell that he is a little drunk when their food gets there; he still manages to take note of Sherlock's happy smile when he doesn't even look at the waitress. Well at least it amuses him, because the waitress was now glaring at him. John quickly started eating and after a few moments, he realized that Sherlock was not. In his slightly drunken stupor, John twirled some spaghetti onto his fork and lifted it up to Sherlock's mouth. Sherlock's surprised look, turned into a one of amusement almost instantly. "I am not a child." John heard him say.

He pouted slightly, why hadn't he just eaten the food? They had ordered it to share and it didn't count as sharing unless Sherlock actually ate some. "Come on just let me feed you. It's a cute gesture; feeding someone means you love them." John stated and somewhere in his drunk mind told him that that had been a very stupid thing to say to his flatmate.

John's heart absolutely pounds as he watches Sherlock take the fork that's in his hand into his mouth. He watches Sherlock swallow the bite and clear his throat, a small blush present on his face. His heart is pounding nearly a million miles per a minute; that had been really hot to watch. In another ten minutes they finish eating, or John eats the rest and takes the time to feed Sherlock two more forks full. He feels a little less tipsy already.

Wine isn't exactly strong alcohol and it burns off quite fast. John smiles as Sherlock pays for their meal, which was really sweet of him. When Sherlock wraps an arm around his waist and leads him out, John can't help but blush. This had been such a romantic date, (if that really was what it really was) but he couldn't help but feel bad for Keysha. Tomorrow, he was going to dump her.

Sherlock is the only thing that he needs for life and everything else from now on would just be extra baggage. And completely not necessary.

Review please!


	6. Chapter 6

Author's note- I would like to start off by saying that I didn't enjoy writing this chapter at all, and in fact I wrote it three times, completely different each time. I went with this one because after reading them all through a couple of time it was my favourite. Hope you like it too, broke my mind writing it. Review for me? I would really love you if you did!

Warning- I own nothing, that is indeed sad. Don't we all wish we could own Sherlock?

Sherlock tugged on John's arm, leading him forward out of the small restaurant, smiling about the way John's face flashed red. It was stained with a blush and could have very well been the explanation of beauty. His heart thumped loudly, John is absolutely beautiful and perfect and possibly the best thing that had ever happened to his life.

He waves down a cab and they crawl into it together, Sherlock presses his knees up against John's, feeling happy about the contact. It's hard to imagine just how horrible life had been before they had met. John is his world, John is absolutely perfect, John is, 'texting someone else on his phone.' He thought with a scowl watching John out of the corner of his eye.

He flashed a grin when an idea popped into his head. He moved closer to John, pretty much shoving him into the door of the taxi's other side. His arms are keeping John still and he can't help but shutter because it feels so good to be pressed up against John. He stole the phone out of his grasp and turned it off, without even looking at it.

John looked over at him, just a little bit confused and a pout sprayed over his lips. Sherlock bit back the urge to moan; God did he ever look cute. Sherlock turned forward for a split second, seeing that the cabby was only paying attention to the road, completely ignoring their existence. Unable to resist any longer, he leaned over and ghosted his lips over John's.

He watched John's eyes go wide, and then close as he leaned forward a bit. They were just light, innocent kisses but they made Sherlock's head spin. This was easily the best cab ride in his entire life. He would either reject him or he wouldn't be able to stop.

The back of a cab with a male driver up front was not the appropriate place for their first time. Besides, well Sherlock might not really care if people saw him stark naked, he was never going to let anyone else see John in the state of undress, ever again. The idea flashed through his mind that he might never let John leave the flat again. It's not like John needed to work, Sherlock would pay the rent and get the groceries. He made more than enough money for all of that.

If John never left the flat then he could just spend every day pounding into that sweet body. That would be glorious; they could try so many things together, experimenting nearly every fetish and position in the world. It would be wonderful.

Sherlock reeled his mind back to the situation at hand; he watched John's breath hitch after every time their lips met. Soon enough the cab came to a halt and Sherlock let go of John to pay. After that, he forcefully pulled John from the cab and pulled him up into their apartment. When he finally let go, John was beet red; that made Sherlock smile.

He watched John stumble over to the kitchen and begin to make them tea. He could tell that John was embarrassed about their public display of affection. He felt proud to be able to make John feel that way.

When John cleared his throat, Sherlock automatically looked over and gave him his full attention. When John finally spoke to him, his world lit up. "Would you kiss me again?" Sherlock got hard so fast that he thought his pants would burst. "_**Please**_." That last word made Sherlock lose all sense of control; he walked over to John and cornered him against the counter. When their lips met this time, it wasn't innocent at all. Wet, open mouth kisses were placed hungrily on John's mouth, as Sherlock snaked an arm around his waist.

When their tongues finally met, Sherlock couldn't help but store John's taste deep within his mind. It was confusing, they had just had spaghetti for dinner, yet John still managed to taste of nothing but the perfect combination of honey mixed into milk. God, he was never going to be able to eat either of those without thinking of John; without thinking of this and getting hard.

He pulled John flush against him, grinding their bodies together. John moaned against his mouth and turned his head to the side, giving Sherlock full access to his neck. Which Sherlock of course took advantage of with a smear of kisses and bites. He wanted to leave as many marks on John's skin as he possibly could.

He lifted John off the ground, forcing him to wrap his legs around Sherlock's body like life support. Sherlock marveled once again at how light John was, and realized how much he loved being able to lift him with ease. It made him feel like he could absolutely dominate John if he wanted to. At the same time though, he realized with him that light how easy it would be to break him.

Sherlock bean to walk them to his bedroom, (John's was too far away) but when they got there, instead of opening the door, he crashed John against it. John's hands found their way to Sherlock's hair. Even through so many layers of clothing, they both shuddered when their erections rubbed together. He was focused totally on John and John's pleasure; Sherlock took his free hand and ripped the front of John's shirt off.

Sherlock growled slightly around his skin, the sleeves still wrapped around his arms. Yet, with no front, Sherlock could see John's perk, pink nipples and his slim, hairless waist and chest. John whimpered as his hand came down, letting go of the shred of John's shirt and tweaking his nipples. God, did he ever love that sound.

Suddenly, Sherlock's phone beeped and John whimpered as Sherlock's attention shifted from him for a single moment. In reality, Sherlock had pulled his phone out when it beeped to turn it off, but John's reaction had been so amusing that he decided to check the message. –There had been a murder outside of the police station, there were no witnesses. Come to the Yard in 20 minutes of I'll come and pick you up.- It was Lestrade.

Sherlock then realized that Lestrade would indeed some and pick him up if he didn't comply. There wasn't enough time for the mind blowing sex he wanted to have. "We have to go to the Yard; there's been an interesting murder." As he spoke he saw disappointment splay over John's face.

Another idea came fast into Sherlock's mind, he dropped John down who, (thanks to his excellent reflexes) landed on his feet. Sherlock opened the door and pushed John forward, propelling him onto the bed. When John turned so he could lay on his back, Sherlock got the see just how glorious he looked with that ripped shirt. It made his mouth water slightly. Ignoring that, Sherlock came forward and invaded John's pants, pulling them down and off along with his boxers.

John's member was now red and straining against his boney hips and not there stomach. "P-please, touch me, take me, and do whatever you want with me." John gasped out under Sherlock, watching eyes. On how he wanted to take him, but h couldn't; they didn't have enough time.

Instead, he tugged on John's cock with a delicate hand, causing John to moan out his name. Never before had he ever heard his name said like that, now he couldn't imagine a world where it wasn't. He pumped John fast, knowing they only had about 7 minutes left; he wanted to get John off fast. The faces John was making were so damn beautiful and the moans made Sherlock's heart leap in his chest.

The doorbell rang to their flat and Sherlock cursed; Lestrade had decided to be early. He stopped and pulled back with an angry stare, only to have his heart nearly stop at the site of John. John was spreading his legs as far apart as he could get them, he was begging for Sherlock. "Please! Take me, _use me. I want to be used by you._" Those words made Sherlock swallow hard.

He pulled out his phone and texted Lestrade, -Fuck the murder, I have something more important to attend to.- That was all that was said before he tossed the phone behind him, not caring where it landed. He captured John's lips once again.

Sherlock leans over to his night stand and takes the lotion; they were going to need it. He covered three fingers in it and brought them to John's entrance. He pushed one in, slowly at first, but when John moaned his name; Sherlock quickly began pumping two in and out. John was gloriously tight around his fingers, and so wanton that Sherlock couldn't picture leaving him for even a split second. He added the third finger in a hurry; not sure to how much longer he was going to be able to keep himself from simply pounding into that tight hole.

Breaking John was something that he didn't want to do; at least not without his permission first. John groaned out, before looking into Sherlock's eyes and saying, "I'm ready, fuck me Sherlock." That, was all the encouragement that he needed. He pulled his fingers and put more lotion on his cock. Three seconds later, he was finally pushing into John's tight ass.

After waiting a few seconds of waiting, (trying to give John enough time to adjust to his size) Sherlock found a steady rhythm. It was hard and it was fast, but neither of them could get enough of it. John felt so fucking tight around Sherlock's large member. Not wanting to be the one who lost it first, Sherlock reached down and slid his fingers all over John's willing body. He tweaked his red, swollen nipples, caressed his stomach and (when he got to it) gripped John's cock.

Sherlock's other hand was gripping John's hip, with force that would leave bruises after. It was probably leaving yellow marks right now; and that marked John as his. When John came, he came calling Sherlock's name. That was all that was needed to push Sherlock over the edge; he came inside the doctor.

It took a few minutes to come down off of the high, but when Sherlock did he managed to pull out. He quickly saw that John had passed out; that made him smile. If he was able to do that to John on his first time, imagine what would be possible with more practise.

Standing up off of the bed, Sherlock dressed himself and found his phone. He texted Lestrade quickly, before looking back over at his John. –I'll be there soon, just getting in the cab. Don't mess with the crime scene! SH.-

It had been so nice of Lestrade to just leave after all ready being there, the least he could do was solve his most likely boring crime. Before leaving the room though, he walked over and pulled a blanket over John's body. Just after stepping out of the room, something occurred to him and he turned around.

Sherlock grabbed John's phone out of the mess; he still wanted to find out who the hell John had texted earlier on that day.

Yep, that's the end of this chapter, what did you all think of it? I want your reviews! They help me come up with ideas for later chapters.


	7. Chapter 7

Author's note- another chapter up for my lovely little readers to read! I'm so very proud of this story and am said to say that there is only going to be 3-4 more chapters. Don't worry though, because I've got another story in mind that I plan on writing out soon. It will also be Sherlock x John!

Disclaimer- refer to previous chapter!

When John wakes up, the first thing that he realizes is that Sherlock isn't there. He is completely alone, and naked on Sherlock's bed. The clock on the wall tells him its 3 pm, (it is a digital clock because Sherlock finds ones that tick to be too damn distracting) and that makes him realize that he had probably slept a good long while. Like almost an entire day sort of long while.

Which in turn, means that Sherlock left right after he passed out and hasn't even been back since. That stings even more then the fact that he left; he got played by Sherlock. John had let himself be fucked and then Sherlock became bored and left him. He wanted to cry. Instead, he got up off the bed and shudder when he realizes just how sore he is.

That had been the first time he had ever been taken; it was hard to stand up. It hurt physically because of that, and emotionally because Sherlock wasn't there to make him feel better. A few tears escaped after that last thought; to distract himself he went to find his phone. It had been in the back pocket of his jeans and when he lifted them up, he could tell it wasn't there.

Sherlock had to have taken it with him for it to not be there. 'Damn, I really wanted to cancel tonight's date!' He thought with a pout. Now, he was going to have to go on a date after cheating on her. He wasn't even going to be able to look at her; he felt so ashamed. God, on the other hand, it now felt like he was going to cheat on Sherlock; life is just so damn unfair.

Noticing that he was just standing in the middle of Sherlock's bedroom, he shook off all of the unwanted (and subconsciously wanted) feeling before leaving the room and heading towards the shower in his room. While it had been tempting to use Sherlock's, he really didn't want to know what kind of experiments or body parts he kept in there. The urge to laugh overwhelmed him when he pictured Sherlock showering with a severed head, talking to it the entire time.

Yeah, that was creepy but also so like Sherlock. He shivered slightly as he made his way up to his room; maybe he should have put something on because it was cold. Sooner than John had thought possible, he was under the warm spray of water. It felt good against his sore and abused skin, which was covered in hickeys. He ghosted his fingers down over the bruises on his hips; they were the exact prints of Sherlock's fingers.

They look beautiful against his skin, a sign that last night hadn't been a dream. It had been reall it had been all that he had ever wanted. If only Sherlock had felt it had been like that as well, then maybe he wouldn't have left.

A horrible thought crashed its way through John's mind making him shudder under the hot water. 'Maybe he didn't like it or he didn't get any pleasure out of it. What if I turned him off and he forced himself to do me out of some sort of sick pity?' He felt pathetic, standing under the shower crying his eyes out, is this what people who get their hearts broken do?

John was unsure exactly how long he stood under the water. Long enough for it to go freezing cold; long enough for him to go over last night three times. Long enough for his eyes to turn puffy and red, from all off the tears.

Eventually, he forced himself to get out, not wanting to be under the freezing water any longer. He wrapped himself up into a cocoon of 4 towels and went and sat in an empty corner of his room. He shuddered to think that because of last night he might have to leave the apartment for good. For what possible reason would Sherlock want to keep John around when he knew how he felt?

It stung, he didn't want to leave 221B Baker Street, this place was his home. It was then that he heard the front door open and close, and footsteps run throughout the flat. Stopping first at what sounded like Sherlock's room and then dashed off to John's. John bit his lip as the door creaked open, and Sherlock's head pushed through, checking if he was in there.

He watched Sherlock freeze completely when seeing him. John couldn't blame him though, he must look horrible. Red eyes from crying and blue skin from cold water. He made himself smaller against the two walls, this was painful. Sherlock was going to ask him to leave, to move out, and to say that last night was a bad mistake. To say that it was horrible, to say that he never wanted to see John ever again unless he was in a body bag and Sherlock was trying to figure out who killed him.

No, that would never happen because his case would be to boring for Sherlock to even bother. It would be suicide because John would kill himself from the loneliness. How could he bear to live without his consulting detective? The truth was that John needed Sherlock; he needed him more than anything. Sherlock was the oxygen that let him breath. Sherlock was life itself.

It was then that Sherlock entered the room and walked forward until less than a foot of space was in between the two. John couldn't help but flinch as Sherlock dropped to his knees and wrapped his arms around John's figure. He was pulled into Sherlock's lap where he was held firm and secure. John fought against tears which were threatening to fall fearing the end of it all.

"John, I'm so sorry I left. There was a murder in front of the police station. A lady was mad at a cop for putting her husband in jail for threatening to kill his neighbour. The wife decided to actually do it." His voice was low and silky. John both hated and loved it in a single moment. His voice was amazing and so was this position, but he knew it was all going to be over soon.

Sherlock's lap was warm and wrapped in his embrace; he felt more safe then he had in a very long time. Still, his mind told him to run; run away before Sherlock could tell him to leave. Another tear ran down his cheek; he hadn't even answered Sherlock, he couldn't because then this conversation would move on. Then he would have to leave all of this behind.

Sherlock's hand came up and wiped off the single tear drop from his face. He looked confused, angry and most of all frustrated. John shut his eye's and took a deep breath willing the entire world to just end at that moment so he wouldn't have to face this.

He waited in silence for all the horrible nightmares from his mind to come true; to take Sherlock out of his life.

And that's the end of this chapter! Yes, I know this one was both short and depressing, but it gets better I promise! The reason this chapter ends hear is because I wrote this much and then decided I really wanted to tell this from Sherlock's point of view. (Small spoiler for next chapter) Review for me!


	8. Chapter 8

Author's note- Yeah, I really like this chapter; in fact I think it's my favourite that I have written so far. Therefore, I hope you like it too; not to mention that I think it's the longest that has been in this story! That's good because last chapter was the shortest. Review for me?

Disclaimer- I own the story, yet none of the characters, how sad.

While at the crime scene, Sherlock was unable to stop thinking about John. It had taken him was longer than usual to solve a simple murder, but John was at home_**in his bed.**_ He had looked so damn good there to, especially after Sherlock had tucked him in. He hadn't wanted to leave him but Lestrade had threatened another drugs bust on the apartment if he didn't. At the last one, it had hurt to see the look of shock on John's face. He had to go.

After the stupid crime had finally been solved, Sherlock had rushed back home. It pleased him to think that he was now considering 221b home, instead of just a flat. It was mostly because that's where **they** live; it was where John and Sherlock had an odd and domestic life together. It was his castle to which e protected with all his power. A smirk flew up and landed itself onto Sherlock's face; if the flat was his castle then that would mean that John was his princess. He couldn't help but note how happy that made him feel and the fact that the thought of John wearing a long gown turned him on.

With that being his last thought, he ran full speed into the apartment finding it dark and nothing moved since whenever he had last been there. Blood drained from Sherlock's head, sending him into a panic; had someone kidnapped John? It had been nearly a full day since he had left, yet not even the lights had been turned on. He dashed to his room and tore the door open, revealing his bed empty and John's clothes still on the floor. He started to fear the worst.

What if someone had com and stolen his John; and lead him far away from Sherlock's reach? What if they had blindfolded him tied him down in some cellar and took him by force? What if John had cried out for Sherlock to save him as he was torn apart both inside and out? Taking two of three guys at once, not wanting it at all yet unable to do anything about it. There would be many guys, and many rounds, John would be pleasured until it hurt. He would be crying out for Sherlock and Sherlock wouldn't be there. John would be broken. Sherlock had never been an overly violent person, but at that moment he would have strangled someone if they had been near him.

Then an idea popped into his head, maybe John had just gone to his own room. He ran so fast that he wasn't even sure that he had touch the ground, arriving at John's room in less than a few seconds. He creaked the door open, not sure what he would do if John wasn't there. He peaked his head in and immediately was relieved to see John. Still, something was very wrong; because John was hidden in the corner wrapped up completely in white towels.

His eyes were red from tears and he was shaking so badly that he could easily be mistaken for slowly freezing to death. Sherlock had never felt so bad in his entire life; had him leaving cause this? Sherlock froze his entire body, not sure if he could move at all. This hurt so much to see, something terrible happened to John when he was out. Something terrible that he could have easily prevented, by simply being here. His thoughts moved back to his rape theory.

Sherlock watched as John shrank himself even farther into the wall, scared of even Sherlock. He waited a few more long minutes before slowly moving towards John. He sank down to his knees and watched as John flinched. Not giving up, Sherlock wrapped his arms around John's small figure before pulling him into his lap. John continued to tremble against him, and it hurt his entire being to feel it.

"John, I'm sorry that I left. There was a murder in front of the police station. A lady was mad at a cop for putting her husband in jail for threatening to kill his neighbour. The wife decided to actually do it." There was actually a lot more to that lame story, but Sherlock couldn't even seem to remember the details. The only thing in Sherlock's mind at the moment was John and how he could possibly make him feel a tiny bit better.

He watched as a tear ran down John's face and he felt his heart ache. He was so confused, to what had happened to make John feel like this. So angry at whomever had hurt him and frustrated that John was so scared of him. Before he could speak again, John started to struggle, trying to get out of his embrace.

Sherlock refused to let him go though, and kept a squirming John in his lap. John was in tears once more and Sherlock simply let him cry while struggling. It was pitiful, John clearly wanted to leave him, but Sherlock kept him in his lap. All of his thoughts were on John leaving his life; moving out and never talking to him again. Unable to take it any longer, Sherlock manhandled a fighting John until their mouths met. Sherlock felt John freeze completely when it happened. Despite his frozen lover, Sherlock continued to press kiss after sweet kiss onto John`s lips. He could feel John`s tears against his face but that no longer even mattered to him.

John was still limp and unmoving in his arm`s; Sherlock found himself letting out an animalistic like growl. ``Kiss me back John, stop trying to struggle away from me. As of last night you are completely _**mine**_.`` It had been cruel yet; John kissed him back with passion.

He pulled back after a few more minutes and examined John`s face. His eyes were still red for crying, his lips were now swollen from kissing. He was now clutching onto Sherlock`s shirt; trying to get closer. Over all, John looked happy, and he was now so beautiful. A quiet, broken voice spoke out over their harsh breathing, ``I love you to.`` Sherlock snapped his eyes down to John when he realized what John had just confessed. That was the sweetest thing that anyone had ever said to him, and it had been so quiet that he had almost missed it.

Another kiss was softly pressed against Sherlock`s lips and his heart was flying. Tongue met with wanting tongue and they were both squirming, trying to get closer to one another. Trying to get a feel of each other's heat. In that moment of absolute passion, he found himself pulling the towels off of John`s body; one by one until he was naked in his lap. It really did worry Sherlock to see just how light John was; to see how easily he could pick him up off the ground and completely carry him to the bed with ease.

So then there they were, on the bed and John naked and beautiful in his arms. Sherlock kissed trails up and down John`s body, mapping out every inch of him. John reached forward and started lightly palming his erection through Sherlock`s clothes. It was a beautiful sight; John absolutely desperate to touch him still covered in hickeys from yesterday. Sherlock lightly tugged at John`s erection, which stood completely at attention. Sherlock let's go and sits up, but only long enough to pull his shirt off. It was in the way.

John whimpers before their mouths connect again, trying to consume each other. In Sherlock`s perspective they are absolutely made for each other, made to be doing this. As he leaves John`s lips and kisses a trail down onto his neck, John groans in a pleased way. His neck id really sensitive and Sherlock can`t help but nibble as he ran his tongue over the flesh.

John is beautifully naked, yet Sherlock still has far too many clothes on. Much to Sherlock`s delight, John is feeling the same way because he reaches down to undo the button on Sherlock's pants. It only takes a They`re few seconds to take them off, along with his underwear and socks. Now, they`re both naked and look like puzzle pieces just waiting to be put together.

Sherlock slowly slides down John`s smaller body, once more, finding his way to John`s sensitive nipples. They stand read and swollen against John`s pail and lightly tanned skin. Sherlock tweaks them at the same time, using a small amount of force with his fingers. The way John moans out his name is amazing. Sherlock loved the way he could make John feel.

Suddenly, an idea popped itself into Sherlock's mind and he smiled at it. Crawling a bit back, he lifted and spread John`s legs. It made John yelp and his ass was taunting Sherlock by being that naively beautiful. As Sherlock made John`s knees touch to John`s chest, he marveled on how flexible he was. Not wanting to wait any longer, Sherlock leaned down and licked around John`s puckered hole.

The noise that John made went straight to Sherlock`s already aching member. It was hard to have self control when the person you want the most is spread out for you to take. John was more than delicate, more than beautiful; John was his.

His tongue penetrated John`s entrance and his eye`s nearly rolled back into his head when he heard John`s desperate scream; ``Oh god, fuck it feels so good! Sher-Sherlock!`` He was giving himself to Sherlock, and it was simply amazing. Sherlock wiggled his tongue around inside of John, tasting him, committing him to memory.

Then, he couldn't take it anymore; he had to be in John. Another moment of going without was impossible. He pulled back and sat on his knees; John was holding his own legs in place and a trail of drool was coming down from his mouth. How was it even possible for someone to look so damn lovely and fuckable all at once? He wasn't going to ask, that would just ruin the moment and this was the best moment he had ever had in his entire life. It didn't need to be ruined.

He watched John nod his head slightly, signaling that it was okay, and Sherlock moved from his current spot to line himself up with John's pucker entrance. He pushed in slowly; there wasn't much preparation and no lubricant this time. It was just them, completing each other like pieces from the same puzzle. It was glorious, John was glorious. John was completely his.

Sherlock watched and waited as patently as he could for John to adjust. Sherlock knew that he was larger than average by all the research he had done over the years. When John reached towards him with an outstretched hand, dilated pupils, open mouth, messed up hair, hickey now ever reed on his neck and chest; Sherlock couldn't take the stillness any longer. He moved back and shoved into John; _hard._ The movement forced a growl straight from Sherlock's throat and he couldn't think of a time he had felt better than this.

The best part of it was, as they started moving together, trying to get more of each other, John felt the same way he did. John was craving him, John wanted him and no one else had ever wanted him like that before. With each thrust from Sherlock, John was pushing back, forcing Sherlock deeper into his body, into his heat, _his tightness_.

The glorious hard thrusts went on like this for what seemed like forever, and neither one of them seemed to be able to get enough of one another. Then, suddenly it was over. John reached his completion without even being touch and Sherlock swelled with pride, happy he could bring his John such pleasure. Finally, Sherlock poured his seed into John like they were trying to breed, still pumping in and out of him riding the pleasure.

In a few more minutes, Sherlock pulled out and lay down beside him. They were both breathing hard, almost unable to calm down. Sherlock couldn't help but smile, not smirk but smile, this was the best thing that had ever happened to him. _**John**_, was the best thing that had ever happened to him. It was even better then solving his first case of the first time he outsmarted his older brother.

A phone rang in the background to ruin the moment and signal that someone had just received a text. Sherlock turned to John on the bed and he quickly decided that he loved seeing John's tired eyes blink at him while trying and failing to stay awake. He leaned over and kissed John on top of the head and then sweetly added, "I'll get it." Before detangling himself and locating the phone the had signaled, which turns out to be John's. Who had he received a text from?

And that's the end of this amazing chapter! I have decided that there is only going to be one more, so sit tight for the finale! Review for me my pretty salves!


	9. Chapter 9

Author's note- Hey everybody, I'm back again to bring you then very end of this story! I really like how this one turned out, and I hope you feel the same! I have been also working on another Sherlock x John story which, should be up soon. Enjoy the last chapter and tell me your thoughts. Oh, and I don't remember if I've said this before but, text will be inside these .

Disclaimer- I don't of Sherlock or any of the characters...

Sherlock picked up John's phone with slight irritation, he hadn't actually wanted to leave the warm bed with his John in it, but if he hadn't John would have gotten up. John getting out of bed was simply not on option. John would stay and rest off his post sex and mental breakdown. If he refused, then Sherlock would just have to force him to stay.

Sherlock looked over at John who was now sleeping peacefully; but he was curled into a ball over to one side of the bed. Sherlock couldn't help but think that it was because John wanted him to curl up with him. Still, it could be because he just mentally broke down.

Finally taking his eyes from John's angelic form, Sherlock glanced down at the phone in his hand. To his surprise there wasn't just one new text but eight, he scrolled through them without another thought. Excited to see you tonight, KC. Leaving for the restaurant, will be there soon! KC. Sherlock frowned, what restaurant and who the hell was this KC person?

Why aren't you already here? KC. John? Please answer me? KC. Sherlock smirked at that one, John wasn't going to answer because at that time, he would have been too busy being held by him. Are you alright? KC. Are you standing me up? KC. Sherlock gripped the phone tightly, for someone to be stood up they had to have been going on a date. John was still dating someone else. That was absolutely unacceptable.

If I did something wrong, then I'm truly sorry. KC. I'm going to see you at your work tomorrow to make sure you're not dead. KC. Sherlock ground his teeth together, whoever this KC person was they obviously had never been stood up before. KC seeing John tomorrow wasn't on the list of things that Sherlock would let happen, he decided that texting back for john was really the best option.

Don't text me again, and don't come to see me. In case you couldn't tell I'm gay and am already in a relationship. Whatever happened between us, I was drunk and it was a big mistake. JW. Sherlock almost felt bad for making John seem so insensitive, but John was his and his alone; no girl (or boy) would ever be able to steal him away.

Sherlock dropped the phone onto the ground before crawling back into the bed, and curled around John. He watched his arithmetic breathing and wandered when John had planned on telling him he had been dating someone else the first time they had slept together. That thought alone angered him a lot; he would make sure John never dated anyone else ever again. He would be Sherlock's or no one's at all. Sherlock gripped John possessively and perhaps a tiny bit too strongly.

That only caught Sherlock's attention when he hissed in his sleep, as if to say, ouch you're hurting my slim and defenceless sleeping body. Reluctantly Sherlock realized John and moved back to sit up at the edge of the bed. He had just hurt John; the man that he wanted to protect more than anything else in the entire world!

Suddenly, an arm wrapped around his stomach and a face was buried into the middle of his back. John must have awoken with all of his frantic moving around. The gesture was suppose to be comforting, but Sherlock found it to be nothing but a turn on, or maybe that's what was supposed to be comforting about it. That was really sad, considering that they had had sex not twenty minutes ago and now he was ready for another round. Was this what love was like? Having the other once not being enough, but needing them over and over again?

He filed that last thought into his ever expanding data bank before turning around and capturing John's lips with a lazy kiss. John was obviously to tired for another round, so he decided not to push it and just enjoy the moment. Though, he absolutely didn't complain when John pulled him back onto his back, up against the head board. He was a little confused, but he didn't complain.

Sherlock gasped when John kissed his half hard cock, and immediately realized what was about to happen, what was happening right at that moment. He thought about pushing John off, not wanting to degrade him in anyway, but that was tossed aside when John's lips curled around the head of his member. Sherlock almost wondered of this was John's way of saying; I'm too tired for sex, but I still want to take care of you. I more than likely was, and Sherlock was loving it.

John's head bobbed back and forth taking in a little bit more every time he did so. God, John's mouth was like heaven. Sherlock couldn't help but release a groan and as if to approve, John swallowed around his cock. This feeling was completely incomparable to anything else he had ever felt.

It was Sherlock who was supposed to be taking care of John, not the other way around. His eyes rolled back into his head as John deep throated him. It was at this point that he stopped fighting it, who was he to defy John if he wanted to do this? Besides, his mouth felt so fucking good! It deserved attention just as much as the rest of him and John seemed to agree with this. That's all that was really important. He trusted up slightly, going farther into John's mouth, into his throat.

It was so damn pleasurable and he couldn't take it anymore. "John!" He cried out, trying to put off his climax if even for a few more seconds longer. As if he understood Sherlock's greatest and deepest desires, John pulled back and let the white spray hit his face. This marked him as Sherlock's. After it was over, John leaned over the side of the bed and picked up a towel. He used it to wipe off the smothered cum, before lying down. He curled himself on top of Sherlock, who immediately wrapped his arms around his stomach.

That had been one of the greatest experiences he had ever had in his life. His heart was still pounding from the sheer excitement. It was only when John spoke that he was brought back down to reality; "So, who was the text for?" It was said so innocently and Sherlock really didn't want to answer, he didn't even know how to begin to answer. How does one say; I broke up with your girlfriend for you, right after we had sex and before you gave me the best/only blowjob I have ever had.

Not really a conversation he wanted to have while trying to stay awake because of not one, but two amazing orgasms. Still, it did have to happen. "Someone complaining that you stood her up on a date." Sherlock said as he watched John flinch from the words. He could flinch all he wanted, Sherlock wasn't about to let him go anytime soon.

"Oh god, I'm so sorry. I was going to break up with her before we slept together. I tried to get ready to go, but couldn't _you weren't there._" The last part was said in nothing more than a whisper but it rang through his head. John had been crying in the corner, because he hadn't been there when John had woken up after they slept together. John had thought that he had regretted it that he had forced himself to sleep with him, that he hated him. His heart pounded, how could he do something that horrible to John? John had broken down because of him, he made John cry.

"I'm so sorry." That was all he could say, nothing could make up for the fact that he had left John in his moment of need. How could he not see it before? That answer was simple to find; because he didn't want it to be that. His judgement had been clouded by the facts and John had gotten hurt because of it. He was a terrible person. That's when he felt pressure on his lips.

John was kissing him; even after all he had put him through. He didn't hate him. "I forgive you." John whispered in between pressing kisses onto his lips. He really didn't deserve John, because John was amazing, hot, sexy, forgiving, caring, and every man's dream for a wife. Sherlock filed that after deciding not only would it not be appropriate to purpose without a ring, but they weren't even officially dating yet. That, of course was not acceptable.

"Go out with me." He said sweetly, immediately both disappointed and terrified when John pulled back. Relief flushed over Sherlock, when John spoke; "I thought we already were." Sherlock smiled. The deeper meaning to those words had been; that girl doesn't mean anything to me, only you matter. 

"Oh good. So, before you ask, I broke up with the texter for you." The reply to Sherlock's words had been a short kiss and a laughing; "good." Yes, the future would be very bright for them indeed.

Yeah, so that's the end of the story! Did you love it? I sure did enjoy writing it! Until next time ~Doom out~


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